12 | in which

18 6 1
                                        

IN WHICH,
i hate my parents.

-

A Death Eater —
that's what my parents
asked me to become.

Christmas Holidays,
a time for giving
and kindness
and light;
not darkness,
and killing
and death.

If only we ruled the world
by festivals,
this world would be
a better place.

The Malfoys were
at our house,
we were eating dinner,
Draco and I sharing glances
and looking away,
awkward blushes on my face,
triumphant smirks on his.

Suddenly my parents announce,
"Amelia Rosier, we have decided
what to do with you
and your foolhardy ways.
If you want to kill people,
better do it with a wand
and put some money into it.
Our great lord, The Dark Lord,
will pay us for the both of you
to become Death Eaters."

Violence, of course,
referred to the self-defence
with which I'd almost killed
Harry Potter.

"You shall be branded
tomorrow."

The smirk was gone,
the blush forgotten,
only dread and fear
in our eyes,
the blood freezing in our bones.

I don't answer, I look
down,
at my food,
and my father's cane
comes up to slap the
back of my hand.

Draco tenses beside me,
and I look up,
our eyes meet.

So,
it's been decided,
we're going to be
killers in life.

How nice.

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